“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
In the theater, the whole cast sat in the first two rows of seats while Mack gave notes on their last performance. Apparently our vampire hero had a tendency to be so sad that it was no longer hot and our heroine wasn’t blinking enough. To be fair, it was a tall order to ask the girl who used to play Patrick inTheSpongeBob Musicalon tour to let her eyes express constant angst.
But none of that mattered. People were talking about the show. It was starting to trend on TikTok, and future cruises were already booking up thanks to our vampire musical alone. It wasn’t exactly the height of fine art, but it was a conversation piece and that was the exact linchpin I needed to take LemonTree Cruises from an Addison Hayes fan experience to a must-do viral experience. Also, who got to decide what fine art was anyway? Whoever they were, they’d clearly never experienced the raw pathos of a vampire giving his vampire bride a dental cesarean.
While Pearl and I observed Mack’s hyperdetailed roasting of the cast, Gretchen and Krysta sat in seats a few rows back, whispering to each other. Krysta had her usual unyielding posture, her usual scanning eyes, but she was smiling. She even laughed at something Gretchen said, causing Mack to give some serious stink eye as he shushed her.
Krysta looked at me with a raised brow, like she was daring him to shush her one more time.
I gave her a wink, which Gretchen totally caught, and Krysta returned my flirtation with a stern gaze.
I glanced at my phone. Three minutes to six thirty. It was time to meet my stalker. I smothered my conscience with a fringed throw pillow and stood up.
“Be right back,” I whispered to Pearl, who was riveted by whatever Mack was saying about blocking.
I walked up the aisle and waved to Gretchen as I leaned down to whisper in Krysta’s ear, my breast brushing her shoulder. “I need to pee.”
“Let’s go,” she said, all business.
“No, no. Stay. It’s a single-stall bathroom backstage. I’ll be right back.”
“She’s fiiiiiiine,” Gretchen said. “Every time I’ve seen Addison walk into a restroom, she’s always walked back out.”
“See?” I said. “A resounding endorsement.”
Krysta thought for a minute too long, so I leaned back down again. “You can trust me.”
After a second, she nodded. “You’ve got five minutes before I come looking for you.”
“That’s all I need,” I told her.
Hopefully, I thought to myself.
I slipped backstage and circled stage left and then stage right before checking the small fitting rooms off the main dressing area. A quick glance told me that my stalker was two minutes late.
Sitting at the stage manager’s desk, huddled in the light of a small desk lamp with her back to me, was Mack’s assistant, signature beret perched neatly on the back of her head, trousered legs crossed while she lightly bobbed a foot clad in an oxford. There had to be something keeping that beret in place, right? Bobby pins?
And God, what was her name again? Caroline? Catherine? Cora? Whatever it was, I needed her to scram. My stalker could be lurking right now, waiting for a moment of privacy, and I’d never know.
“Um, excuse me?” I said, searching my memory as quickly as possible. I hated forgetting people’s names. It was bad for business. “It’s... Callie?”
The girl didn’t even bother to spin around or look over her shoulder. “Cassie,” she said, clearly annoyed.
“Cassie, right. So sorry about that. Names slip my mind faster than you can say ‘paid content.’”
“Hard to forgetyourname, Addison. It’s everywhere.”
I laughed as genuinely as I could manage. “Yeah, I can see how that might be annoying. But branding, et cetera, et cetera. Hey, I think Mack was looking for you? Something about a green juice and some missing props.”
Cassie sighed and continued to pencil notes into her thick binder full of every last show detail. “Mack doesn’t believe in vegetables, and I checked the props myself three minutes ago.”
“Fine,” I said lightly, like this was all some kind of inside joke. “You got me. I just need the backstage to myself for just a few minutes. I’m sure that sounds creepy, but I won’t be long.”
“No, you won’t be,” Cassie said as she slowly turned toward me. And then without a word, she opened something on her phone and held it up for me to see.
My lips parted but no words came out, which was truly a first.
Because it was me.
